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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850840">your heart as a pillow, i finally sleep</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonki/pseuds/boonki'>boonki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Boonki's obikin oneshots and drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sleep Deprivation, Sleeping Together, sleep deprivation prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:28:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,507</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonki/pseuds/boonki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Obi-wan nor Anakin can seem to get any sleep. After waking up from a nightmare and finding Anakin in the kitchen, Obi-wan suggests they share a bed, and Anakin agrees. It's soft :')</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Obi-Wan Kenobi &amp; Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, could be read either way - Relationship, or - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Boonki's obikin oneshots and drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2201706</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>193</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>your heart as a pillow, i finally sleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi guys! This is from the tumblr prompt "you look absolutely horrible" that I forgot to post on here! </p><p>Enjoy! </p><p>Comments and kudos make me (●'◡'●)ﾉ♥</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The only light on in their shared kitchen space is above the sink, drowning the space in a burnt orange color, like the warm glow of a fire. As he stumbles into the room, Obi-wan nearly misses Anakin sitting at the table, fiddling with droid parts, back curled over and head drooped to study a piece of machine in his hands. How he’s even able to see is far beyond Obi-wan, but he’s learned to let it go throughout the years.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan turns the knob on the stove and shuffles the kettle to check for water, startling Anakin out of his meditative state. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Obi-wan.” Anakin looks up at him and squints, exhaustion forming neat lines around the corners of his eyes. “I didn’t know you were awake.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before reaching up to the cabinet for a well-loved mug, Obi-wan catches how pale Anakin is, how dark purple blooms around his eyes like bruises, how he seems to shrink into himself. Obi-wan has seen Anakin look tired before, especially when he was younger and put so much pressure on himself to perfect his schoolwork, but this is on the particularly bad end of things. Anakin’s hair is greasy, the long curls pushed back and tucked behind his ears, and the small blanket draped around his shoulders does nothing to hide the fact that Anakin is still wearing the same shirt from two days ago. He looks absolutely horrible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look absolutely horrible,” Obi-wan says, the mug settling on the countertop with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clink. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Have you even tried to sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin frowns. “Hey, you don’t look much better. We’re both awake at what,” his head swivels around as he looks for a clock, and finding none, guesses, “four in the morning? What’s your excuse, old man?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan hums noncommittally at that, amusement assuaging the growing worry nagging at his chest. He pulls a tea bag out of the flimsy cardboard box left out on the counter, and rips the packaging open, letting the sachet dangle into the cup. He lets the silence linger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a softer tone, Anakin tries again. “You can’t sleep either?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan pours the boiling water into the mug, watching the color turn into a deep shade of purple, and he gently bounces the bag up and down, encouraging it to steep. “I think you’ll find, my dear padawan, that I’ve evolved past the need for sleep.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin’s eyebrows flatten, and he snorts. “I’ll make sure to pass that along to Cody, I’m sure he’ll agree with you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A smile tugs at Obi-wan’s mouth. “No, I,” he pauses, taking a breath, “I keep waking up. Figured a cup of tea would help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of the mirth vanishes from Anakin’s face, leaving only unadulterated worry. Obi-wan looks down at his tea. They both know a euphemism for nightmares when they hear one by now, considering they’ve created half of them on their own. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war will do that to a person. Fighting a gruesome, bloody, and endless war where a good portion of the deaths are on your hands, on your conscience, even more so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air is still between them, but dense with emotion. Obi-wan rarely admits his nightmares to anyone, and by the myriad of expressions racing through Anakin’s features, he can tell Anakin is struggling with the right response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan sips his tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, I,” Anakin starts, clearing his throat, “I wish I knew them better, my men who died. I see them in my dreams.” He’s staring down at his hands, either as a distraction or remembering the blood he’s washed off. The droid parts sit motionlessly beneath them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan leans back on the counter, holding the steaming mug up to his chin. “So do I,” he nearly whispers, grateful for Anakin’s admission, his attempt to empathize with Obi-wan. He wants to say more, wants to sit down and let out the demons haunting his dreams, but he’s afraid that they’d rip all his bandages on the way out and tear him apart completely. It’s easier, he thinks, to keep it all inside, contained, controlled. But in the dim and molten light of the kitchen, with his face hidden in the shadows, he wants to be vulnerable. He also wants Anakin to get some rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to come sleep with me?” Obi-wan asks, eyes darting up to Anakin’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin’s eyes go wide, and he straightens up in his seat. “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He suddenly realizes what he’s said, and he can feel his ears burn. “No, not like that.” He dips the tea bag in and out of the mug, and Anakin relaxes a bit, though still wary, looking somehow disappointed. “When you were a youngling, you used to crawl into bed with me when you couldn’t sleep. You thought I never noticed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You remember that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan smiles to himself, gazing wistfully down into his mug. “Of course, dear one. You weren’t the only one who slept better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin’s eyebrows are knitted together, his lips parted. “Oh.” He looks thoughtful. “Sure, then. Your room?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warmth floods Obi-wan’s chest in anticipation, not at all feeling guilty about his careful manipulation. He knows Anakin could never turn down helping others, it’s in his nature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin’s little droid project is completely forgotten as Anakin stares at him for an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Considering I don’t quite feel like tripping over half an engine, yes, my room.” Obi-wan takes one final sip of his tea and sets it by the sink, treading over the cold floor back into his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a scoot of his chair, and loud, heavy footsteps, Anakin follows, sliding Obi-wan’s door shut behind him, leaving the pair in complete darkness. Obi-wan is still in his sleep shirt and shorts from before, so he slips into bed, pulling back the covers for Anakin to join him. He hears the soft thump of clothing dropping to the floor and then a dip in the mattress next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan lays on his back, as he assumes does Anakin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s a shuffle as Anakin readjusts, and with a slight startle, Obi-wan feels a bare arm rest against his chest, a face in his neck, a leg thrown over his. It’s odd, but rather nice. Obi-wan doesn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” Anakin mumbles into the crook of his neck, blowing hot air over his collarbones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Obi-wan faintly wonders if Anakin can feel his heartbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What were your nightmares about?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan considers this. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blood, so much blood, headless bodies strewn over a hopeless landscape, their heads coming to life and blaming their deaths on him, his call, his decisions. Qui-gon, standing in the flames, yelling at him to be better, to have saved him, saved his men, to save Anakin. Stillness, as he stands utterly alone and deserted, everyone finalizing realizing they were better off without him, because he is worthless, unlovable, tainted- </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“The war.” Obi-wan answers, his voice cracking. “And you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When no reply comes, Obi-wan wraps his arm around Anakin’s back, tracing his spine, the flesh warm and smooth underneath his fingertips. Anakin’s breaths come slow and even, and his hand twitches once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Already asleep, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obi-wan bites a lip to keep from chuckling. Maybe </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the trick to get him to sleep. He rests his cheek against his hair, presses a light kiss to the top of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dream of losing you, dear one,” he whispers out to no one, letting the honesty linger in the darkness above them. He trusts the nighttime to keep his secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they both wake up in the morning, Obi-wan is sure there will be some level of embarrassment from cuddling, from cracking open their hard exteriors to each other. They’ll probably be sent out to the frontlines and never speak of this again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels the sturdy muscles of Anakin’s sides, the dip of his waist and rise of his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For now, Obi-wan holds him, keeps him safe from the torment of his own brain, and lets him get some much needed sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>___</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Light billows out from underneath the door when Obi-wan wakes, morning having come and gone long ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anakin has curled further into him, practically seeping into his bones. There’s a leg thrown over his waist, face completely smooshed in his neck, and his arm drapes over his chest, Anakin’s palm cupping the side of his face. Delicate snores come from Anakin’s nose, and Obi-wan’s neck is hot from Anakin’s breath. Obi-wan’s hand is settled in the small of Anakin’s back, the other arm thrown up above Obi-wan’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A languid grin finds its home on Obi-wan’s face, sleep tugging at his edges. He hasn’t felt so well rested in years. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not wanting to wake Anakin, Obi-wan flutters shut his eyes, and lets himself drift back off, soaking in the feeling of love and security that pool together in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Anakin breathing steadily on top of him, peacefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The war will have to wait. </span>
</p>
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